Contingency Plan
by BrokenSolitude
Summary: Charles Ofdensen has two families: Dethklok, and his life with Zoe and Sarah. But when Rawhide resurfaces, will Charles have to sacrifice one for the other? Sequel to "Risk Factor!"
1. Chapter 1

**Contingency Plan- Revamped Version!  
** A Metalocalypse Fanfic**  
**

**Rating:** Mature, for language, sexual imagery, and violence.

**Summary:** Charles Ofdensen has two families: Dethklok, and his life with Zoe and Sarah. But when Rawhide resurfaces, will Charles finally have to sacrifice one for the other? Sequel to "Risk Factor!"

**Author's Note: _STOP! _**If you have not read "**Risk Factor**," this story will make little sense to you, as it is a sequel. Please, if you are still interested, take the time to read the original that started it all! I promise you won't be disappointed!

For everyone else, welcome back! It's nice to regroup here! I just can't stop. I was going to take a break from writing, but it's all coming to me so fast I can't look away! Bad news for my sore wrists, great news for you if you're as pumped about this as I am.

This is set just a bit in the future from the end of "Risk Factor." In fact, we've jumped ahead about 3 3/4 years. I'm excited to be writing this with the advent of the 4th season- I took a long break from working on it, though I've had the entire thing planned out in my head since before Risk Factor was even completed. As it is, I'm very happy to see parallels and openings appearing throughout season 4 that give me an excuse to write this very close to canon events. Hopefully this will continue to be viable after the close of S4, but even so, hey- it's just a story.

The only other thing that I can think to say is that there will be (as far as I can see) one or two more minor OC's that crop up besides the pre-established cast, and maybe even one or two scenes that only involve Zoe, but I think by this point she's been received well enough for me to get away with it. And yes, this will be another thriller, with a side order of comedy, romance, angst, and all that other good stuff! So, thank you all for coming back, and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1  
**

"Unngh." Charles Foster Ofdensen groaned and rolled over, fumbling for the alarm clock snooze button. Without opening his eyes, he found it, and smacked it down, nearly knocking the abused device off the nightstand in the process. It took him a moment longer to process that the alarm clock hadn't been going off in the first place. The small voice came again.

"Daddy? Mommy?" He could hear his beloved Zoe stirring beside him, and he rubbed a hand over his face.

"What time is it?" They were the first words he could think to say. Zoe growled something incoherent at him, blinking at the ceiling.

Charles sat up and turned on the lamp. Sliding his glasses onto his nose, he looked blearily at the door that had squeaked open.

"Sarah? What's, ah...what's wrong?" The three-year-old wiped her eyes and sniffed, clutching her teddy bear closer to her chest.

"I had a bad dream." Her little voice warbled through tears. Charles felt his lips twitch upwards in a sympathetic grin. He sighed, casting a glance at his wife, who was immediately wide awake and pushing herself into an upright position, then beckoned the little girl over.

Sarah's short legs kicked into action, and she trotted across the bedroom and crawled up onto the bed from the bottom. The little girl wiggled up the center of the sheets, nestling herself between her parents. Zoe pulled her close, kissing her temple gently.

"Wanna tell us about it, sweetie?" Mother brushed away the tear streaks from her daughter's cheeks and poked her in the nose with a smile. The little girl nodded, wrapping her pudgy arms around Zoe's neck and looking at Charles with frightened hazel eyes.

"Well, there was a monster, and he had lots of eyes, and a zillion arms, and he was all slimy, and I was in my bed, and he said 'grr! I'm a scary monster!' and I got scared, and I ran and ran, but he caught me and ate me!" It was too much for her to recount. Sarah scrunched her eyes and started to cry again.

Charles didn't mean to chuckle. What got him was the irony. Most parents spent nights like those indulging the children and trying to calm them down, but they were rolling their eyes behind the kid's back. Charles spent his nights taking Sarah's nightmares seriously to heart because of the things he had witnessed in the not-so-distant past. This time was no different, and he found himself trying to picture the beast that plagued his daughter. In his head, he wondered if it more closely resembled a particular lake troll, or, given the fact that she was three and in love with all things colorful, a certain garishly dressed rock-n'-roll clown.

Zoe rocked the little girl back and forth, smoothing her ginger curls and making gentle shushing noises. Charles took his glasses off again, folded them, and set them next to the clock.

"It was just a dream, baby! It'll be okay." The woman beside him crooned, and Sarah eventually quieted. Again, the big, doleful eyes met his. He reached out and gently lifted her chin.

"Would you like to, ah, sleep here tonight?" A brilliant smile flashed across her face, and she nodded with vigor.

Blissfully, Charles sank back against the pillows, watching with a happy eye as the child let Zoe toss the covers over her and lay down, rubbing Sarah's back. She blinked at Charles, who tucked the stuffed animal, which she had abandoned in favor of her mother's arms, in beside her.

"Good night Mommy. Good night Daddy." Sarah murmured, sleep already reclaiming her small body. Charles kissed her forehead before reaching over to turn off the lamp.

"Night sweetie." He whispered, trying to force himself back into the realm of dreams before the alarm clock really did sound off.

* * *

Thankfully, Charles was awake before the hellish clock could ruin the finally-peaceful slumbers of his wife and child. The deep blue light of pre-dawn filtered through the shades, and he stretched, careful not to disturb the bed's other occupants. Mornings such as these were to be cherished, as they were a rarity now. To wake in his favorite bed, next to his wife, in his own house...these were not things taken for granted by him, the way they were by most men. He was very careful to never let himself become accustomed to his secret life. He had learned, all too well, just how dangerous of a move that was.

Most men who carried the title Chief Financial Officer were still asleep at 4 am. Most men of any job title were still asleep. They would rise at 6 or 7, depending on what they wished to accomplish before returning to the grind, and go about their business, working out, dressing, eating breakfast. They would go to their jobs, make money, and do whatever it was they had to do. At 5 pm, most men were released from the cubicle, and returned home, to eat dinner around the table and talk with their families. Then, they finally retired to bed, just to rise and repeat the next morning. Such were the lives of most men.

But Charles Foster Ofdensen had never been "most men."

Silently, he disarmed the diabolical alarm and slid out from under the sheets. Padding around the room and collecting his clothes for the day, Charles slipped into the adjacent bathroom and slowly closed the door. He made a mental note to fix the obnoxious squeaky hinge at some point in the near future.

The businessman showered, shaved, and dressed quickly. Combing his hair, he grimaced when he noticed the gray that stood out against the chestnut. Even a few strands threw off his image. Without so much as wincing, he plucked out the grays, knowing more would simply form in their place, but making yet another mental note to let Zoe dye his hair when she got the chance.

Back out of the bathroom and across the bedroom. Thus came the tricky part of not waking anyone up- crossing into the hallway. He placed a hand on the doorknob and inhaled.

Charles pried open the door, slid outside, and shut it as quietly and quickly as he could. He breathed out, relaxing. Perhaps that morning was lucky!

The tell-tale rapid fire clacking against the hardwood floor made him slump. Bentley struggled to round the corner without sliding into the wall, heading for Charles. The dog's entire body wagged with the force of his happiness at greeting his master promptly in the morning.

Charles had no idea why he had given into getting a dog. An animal for protection he could understand. But this..._this _was no such creature. It wasn't even a dog. It was simply a cleaning utility that had been outfitted with four legs, a tail, and a tongue.

The tiny Komondor tried to stop just short of his master, but could do no such thing on the slick floor, and slammed headfirst into Charles' shins. It didn't hurt, but rather managed to slightly annoy him. The dog sat back, shaking his head. Firmly, Charles reached down and picked up the disoriented mop-dog, tucking him under his arm and descending the stairs.

"You are, ah, more trouble than you're worth." He grumbled to the animal, who wriggled in reply.

He set the dog down by the door and reached for Bentley's leash on the coat rack. Bentley twirled in circles, his dread-like coat of fur wafting out like a ballerina's tutu. Charles raised an eyebrow. He didn't have time to try to lasso a moving target.

"Hold still!" He commanded, and the dog actually stopped and looked up at him. Or, at least, Charles assumed the dog was looking at him, because it was a rare moment when Bentley's eyes were actually visible. Finally he slipped the latch of the leash through the d-ring on the dog collar, and punched the alarm code into the keypad by the door.

The fresh air hit him, and he shivered, but breathed deeply. Bentley sniffed the air and then lowered his snout to the porch. He made snuffling noises that almost drowned out the delicate songbird somewhere in the trees that bordered the backyard.

Charles hopped down the stairs, dog in tow, and then started off down the walkway. Bentley, happy to be on his morning walk, finally caught up to his master's strides and bounced along beside him.

Four years he had been doing this, and going out with the strange looking creature by his side still made him want to bury his head in the sand. Charles Ofdensen was not supposed to own a small dog. Charles Ofdensen was not supposed to own any dog, or any pet, for that matter. Charles Ofdensen was not even supposed to own a modernized colonial in the middle of an out of the way town where he secretly stashed his allegedly dead wife and allegedly non-existent daughter, but that was a little easier to swallow and explain than the animated drooling mop, in the long run. But his time at the house, as usual, had come to a close much too quickly.

He couldn't complain. For a man nearing forty-two years of age who was the manager of the biggest band in world history, dealing with the not-so-small repercussions of having a family was a drop in the bucket of life. It was a punch he would gladly take, if Dethklok ever found out. So far, however, they still believed Zoe was long blown to pieces across their lawn.

The streetlights flickered off like clockwork as the sky grew light enough to see by. Charles circled the block at a brisk clip, looking up at the clear sky that still bared the faint, low moon. Bentley panted and inhaled, the scent of the neighbor's new puppy coming to him on the wind.

Returning home from the excursion, Charles looked up longingly at the white house. He had never thought such a _cozy_ place could be called home, but it was definitely a part of him now. He could never choose it over the dark-age comfort of Mordhaus, but it was the perfect place to raise his family.

He checked his watch, and his shoulders fell. Not enough time to make coffee. He looked down at Bentley, who had retrieved his food bowl and dropped it at Charles' feet with a clatter. The CFO groaned, and bent down to pick up the bowl.

He wandered into the kitchen and over to the sink. Bentley followed, nudging Charles' leg in an urge for him to be more expeditious. He opened the cabinet below the door and scooped a cupful of dog food out from the hidden bag. Bentley barked loudly, and Charles shushed him, anger rising.

"'S'okay." A voice caught his attention from the stairs. "I'm already up and Sarah's still out cold." Zoe pulled her silk robe tighter around her shoulders, scuffing towards her husband as he set the food bowl down in the corner.

She walked straight into Charles, wrapping her arms around his waist and yawning into his sternum.

"I know I say this every time, but be careful out there. And come back soon." She whispered, receiving an even tighter embrace. Charles tipped her head up and smiled fondly.

"And I never, ah, cease to take your advice." He leaned in, capturing her lips gently. Zoe pressed him backward into the counter, taking advantage of their small window of time together.

Time flew by. Charles eventually pulled back, gasping, his glasses fogged up from the heat of their combined skin and breath. Zoe giggled, running her fingers through his mussed hair.

"Do you know when you'll be back?"

Charles wiped his glasses on the dishtowel beside him and caught his breath.

"In a couple of days. A, ah, week at most." Zoe's face fell, but she nodded.

"Alright. Just...say goodbye to her this time, okay? She's just..." Zoe trailed off, uncertain, but Charles caught her drift. He looked away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it would, ah, bother her."

The redhead stared at him incredulously.

"Charlie. You didn't think it would_ bother_ her? She's your daughter! You leave for days, weeks..._months_ at a time, and you expect me to be able to explain why you're gone every night when she asks 'where's daddy?' It's not an easy task, babe."

Charles sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck after Zoe backed away, filling the coffee pot with water and pouring it into the top of the machine.

"I know. But she's only three!" He protested, grabbing the filters in the cabinet above his head without being asked. Zoe glared at him and snatched the filter away that he held out to her.

"Seriously?" She questioned, hunching her shoulders.

Charles looked at her bristled form and shook his head. Without a word he turned away and climbed to the second floor. Sarah was still asleep in his bed, and he watched her for a moment, leaning against the bedroom wall. When he had no more time to waste, Charles sat down on the edge of the bed and gently shook the little girl's shoulder. She opened her eyes slowly, her fingers curling and uncurling around her teddy bear.

"Daddy?" She looked as bewildered as a three-year-old possibly could. He brushed a piece of her hair out of her face.

"Hello, ah, sweetheart. Did the monsters go away?" Sarah nodded, sitting up and crawling into his lap.

"Listen Sarah...daddy has to, ah, go away again. But it's just for a few days." The child touched the side of his face searchingly, and then reached out for a hug. Charles embraced his daughter, already missing her. The situation made it so difficult for him to watch her grow up, but thus far, he was doing the best he possibly could.

"Okay daddy. I'll miss you." There. There it was. That unwavering trust that he had to stay true to. So many people had such a trust in him- Zoe, Dethklok, certain Klokateers... but only one had the delightful unlearned sensitivity of a child. He smiled and set her back down on his side of the bed, tucking her in. It was too early for her to be awake and stay awake.

"Bye sweetie." He murmured, pecking her cheek and straightening his tie. Grabbing his keys off the dresser, Charles was halfway across the room when Sarah called out.

"I love you, daddy!" He looked over his shoulder at the little girl swallowed up by the giant bed.

"I love you too, Sarah." With that, he was back down the stairs and grabbing his jacket.

Zoe's wrath had filtered out of her with the dripping coffee, and she met him at the door with Bentley. He looked at her wordlessly. They had done this dance so many times before that speaking now seemed inadequate as a goodbye. She followed him out to the Mercedes, which was idling in the driveway from the remote start up. Charles turned when he reached the door, only to find himself being tackled to the lawn.

He landed with a thud, and Zoe giggled. They tousled in the yard for a moment, but Zoe knew enough to let him go before he ended up with grass stains on his suit. He scrambled to his feet, catching Zoe in his arms from behind and burying his face in her shoulder. She laughed when he tickled her ribs, and then leaned back against his chest.

"Call me?" She murmured, turning around and fussing with his suit, his hair, his tie. Charles nodded, and shared a quick kiss with her.

"Bye, Zo." He said as he got in the car. She smiled, tapping the roof of the car twice and retreating to the porch.

Charles pulled out of the driveway and waved at her.

"And for God's sake, make them behave! The news lately has not been pretty!" She called as an afterthought, recalling the Dethklok Minute segment that had dropped her jaw with its stupidity. Murderface's impromptu hospital visit in Poland had not gone unnoticed by the media. Never leave a staple gun within reach of a man who was over-pissing himself due to the practical joking of his bandmates.

Charles drove. He picked up a coffee and muffin on the way, seeing as his stomach growled louder than the morning rock radio that poured through the car stereo. As he drove, he felt the past three days disappear from his face, from his body, and from his entire being. His expression slipped into the well practiced blankness that had been a favorite of his for twenty years. His impatience to start the day at what he considered the best job in the world mounted as the miles rolled by. Dethklok would be returning from Poland a few hours after he arrived, and he planned his day, which included making sure Murderface had plenty of ice on hand, booze ran free, and everyone who didn't need to know of his absence remained in the dark. As his mood changed, he turned the radio dial and caught up with the latest world news, and then tuned into a tax cut discussion.

Finally, Mordhaus rose up in the distance. He pulled onto the small road and was cleared for entrance by the guardian Klokateers. The road ahead widened into the massive, river-crossing highway, and, with little interest in his surroundings or anything other than work, he passed into the belly of Mordhaus' garage.

A family man had woken up that morning and left home reluctantly. Now a businessman was returning home, and was more than ready to start his day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Charles met them at the landing pad as the newer of the Dethcopters spun down. The door opened, and four-fifths of Dethklok waltzed out normally. The remaining member was the last one out, and exited the craft at a waddle, lashing out with his fists at the Klokateers who rushed forward to help him.

"Argh-Get the fuck offa me, you fuckin' pisschheads! I don't need any help!" Murderface raged, spinning around and trying to mash in the masks of his attendants. Instead of this occurring as he wanted, he stumbled, tripped, and crashed into the ground below on his stomach.

There was a moment of silence, mostly because he couldn't breathe, before Murderface started to scream in agony. Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked to a couple Klokateers who were glancing from the bassist to each other helplessly.

"Get him up." Charles monotonously commanded. The masked men jumped into action and picked up the struggling musician, who proceeded to scream every possible expletive at them gratingly. A medical attendant appeared, pushing a wheelchair past the rest of the snickering band, and Murderface was seated in the chair, clutching at his nether regions, but finding absolutely no comfortable way to do so. The group began to parade inside, Charles trotting alongside the band.

"I trust your, ah, trip went well?" He already knew the answer, but it was a tradition to ask. Nathan shrugged.

"Was okay, I guess. I mean, what with Murderface landing in the hospital because he stapled his dick shut." Nathan glared at the bassist pointedly.

"Hey! You guysch are the onesch who dosched my coffee! You baschtards could have _killed _me!" He stressed, groaning when the wheelchair hit a rock just before entering the safety of Mordhaus. Pickles chuckled, grabbing the beer a Klokateer held out for him.

"Dood, lighten up ahlready! We figured you'd be into it, y'know? Yer always tahlkin' about piss, anyway." The redhead flicked the bottle cap at Skwisgaar, who huffed and went back to playing his scales. Murderface raged and sputtered to himself.

"The fuck are you talking about, Picklesch? My dick was in tractschion for two daysch!" Nathan, Pickles, and Skwisgaar each chuckled at the memory. Murderface crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath. Toki was the only one who ignored the conversation, instead looking relieved to be home and sidling up to Charles in a sloppy, bow-legged fashion.

"How's ams you, Charles?" The Norwegian cocked his head at his manager, who blinked at him, surprised that someone would bother to ask.

"Oh, I'm, ah, fine, Toki. And yourself?"

"I's ams good. Tireds." He paused, looking unsure, and then leaned closer to Charles.

"We's puts a diur-reth-ta-lic in Murderface's coffee." He looked smug. The CFO rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Toki, I, ah, know that already." The guitarist exploded into laughter.

"You's hads...haha!... You's, you hads to ams been theres!" He chortled, and Charles rolled his eyes and glared at the Klokateers who had descended from the Dethcopter.

"Alright, how many drinks did he have?"

A Klokateer trembled and stepped forward.

"Five that we saw, my lord." Charles frowned.

"He's only supposed to have three at the, ah, most." The Klokateer bowed his head in shame.

"Forgive me, my lord." Charles nodded.

"He'll live. Just, ah, get him some black coffee." the Klokateer disappeared promptly into the kitchen.

"Now, ah, guys, there are some things we have to, ah, discuss." The band collectively groaned, followed by a soothed sigh from Murderface, who shoved the ice bag handed to him down his shorts.

"Ah! That'sch the schtuff!" He looked blissful. Charles felt his eye twitch.

"Here's the deal, boys. You've been at each other's throats lately and frankly, your, ah...'antics' are getting a bit out of hand." He gestured to Murderface, who was openly massaging the ice bag over his sore appendage.

"Aw, come _on_, Chief! We just got back, for feck's sake! Cantcha give us a break?" Pickles protested sullenly. Charles thought this over. They _had_ just gotten home, after all.

"Well...ah...okay, listen. You all, ah, take a while to come down and relax. Grab a bite to eat, unwind, and we'll talk about this later." He turned to leave as Dethklok cast knowing looks around behind his back, but stopped, a final thought hitting him.

"And do _not_ do anything else to each other that could cause, ah, emotional or physical harm."

To his relief, Dethklok looked defeated, and he left the RecRoom feeling far less anxious. A Klokateer met him outside the door with a glass of brandy.

"Keep an eye on them, three-twenty-six." The Klokateer nodded solemnly.

"Yes, milord. And if they attack each other?" Charles sipped at his brandy.

"Put an end to it. Exert force if necessary- just, ah, don't hurt anyone. You recall what happened the, ah, last time?"

The mask stared at the ground, almost bashful.

"Yes, Lord Ofdensen."

"Good. Keep on them for about, ah, two hours, and then you know where I need you to be for the evening." Charles began to walk away, but the Klokateer stepped out of line and caught up with him. They conversed in whispered tones.

"How were they this morning?" He queried. Charles looked at him.

"Zoe's a bit up and down. Sarah's really been a, ah, handful lately, and she's understandably exhausted." The Klokateer nodded.

"So...the usual, then?" Charles allowed a tiny smile to cross his face.

"Yeah. Just keep an eye on them, and if they, ah, go at it...basically the same protocol as with Dethklok." He was almost to the door when again, the Klokateer caught his attention.

"Whoa, hold up, hold up! You want me to take care of the you-know-who and the smaller you-know-who with _force_?" Charles shushed him.

"Overstepping." He chided. The Klokateer resumed an at-ease pose.

"Sorry, milord. I was just...shocked."

"Don't use force on them, 326. Just...be _forceful_ with them. Tell Zoe I, ah, gave you permission." 326 nodded.

"Will do, sir. See ya." The Klokateer resumed his servant's personality and entered the RecRoom, leaving Charles to continue on his way to the control center wondering why he allowed himself such camaraderie with a gear. The last time that had happened, he'd ended up marrying her.

Entering the room that had been rebuilt from the ground up, Charles mounted the tiered platform and settled himself in his command chair. Taking up his nonchalant habit of leaning to one side, he motioned for the incoming video conference to be pulled up.

The older man on the screen smiled broadly.

"Charles! Long time no see, eh?" Charles nodded, his infamous "I don't really care about you but I'll be cordial because we're associates" smile traipsing across his lips.

"How are you, Bradley?" He asked of the monitor.

"Fine, just fine. And yourself?" This would drag on forever with these formalities. Charles shrugged.

"Can't complain. I assume you have the prototype ready?" The man known as Bradley nodded vigorously.

"Of course! How could I not? We halted production on all other products to build it!" Charles raised an eyebrow at the screen, wishing the man would just show him the product and get it over with.

Bradley held up the first piece, and Charles leaned forward, scrutinizing the screen.

"May I present Nathan Explosion, the most metal bobblehead the world has ever known. Just let me say your design for the extended range of motion in his head was brilliant, Charles. I-"

Charles cut him off.

"Great. Looks good. And the others?" Bradley looked startled, but nodded, and gestured off screen. A video prompt highlighting the rest of the Dethklok bobbleheads played across the monitor. As it ended, Bradley's voice cut in.

"We've got them ready to run in seven, nine, and twelve inches, fully cast in polyresin!"

Charles nodded again, his knuckles brushing against his jaw.

"Perfect. Run them all. I want twenty-thousand units of each figure in each size. If all goes well, we'll input another order within a week of their unveiling." Bradley's brown eyes blinked behind the glasses that made them look huge.

"That's...that's incredible, Charles. We'll rush produce the first batch. I must say, this is an honor! To be working for Dethklok? Thats-"

"Yeah that's nice, Bradley. I have another design I'll be sending to you that I want you to prototype- sort of another take on the same product. Gimme a call when they're finished."

Bradley saluted the screen casually.

"Will do, Charles."

"Alright. Bye." The call was disconnected immediately, and Charles shifted, stifling a yawn. His latest assistant- the fifteenth one since Zoe- handed him one of the two cups of coffee he had been holding.

"Where are we on the final comp for the second bobblehead design?" He queried of the room. His assistant piped up.

"The art department will have it completed and ready for sign off in less than an hour, milord." Charles sipped his coffee and tried not to wince. No one ever remembered his preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, except Zoe.

"Excellent. Four-seventy-seven, have legal start drawing up the patent documents. Sixty-four-twenty-eight, don't let the automatic pay-off handle Murderface's Polish hospital bill- I'll take that one myself. I am expecting a call from the National Football League sometime this afternoon to discuss the Superbowl performance slot-see to it that everyone involved receives the usual negotiation package."

Charles' eyes roved the many monitors in the room to make sure everything was in order, and when he was satisfied, he stood, departing the chair's terrace and leaving the room, his assistant in tow. They walked in silence to his office. It was times like these that he missed having Zoe as his right hand woman- his time had been eaten up by conversation and free flowing noise.

Charles settled himself at his desk and returned to the contracts he was looking over for various merchandising endeavors. He clicked a red pen open and began to scratch out various portions of the clause, writing margin notes in his neat penmanship. Moments passed in the same damnable quiet. Had he not woken up in his own home that morning it wouldn't have bothered him, but a small portion of his mind was still in "family mode."

"Fifty-three-fifty-four." He addressed the other suited man, who snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir?" Charles stole a glance at his watch.

"Ah...go check on Dethklok. Take a status report on their demeanor and report back to me, seeing as I still have to speak to them."

"As you wish, my lord." The Klokateer turned on his heel and left. Charles calculated he had about ten minutes to himself. He punched the memorized number into the phone on his desk and waited while it rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey. How's it going?" He murmured, Zoe's voice sounding exasperated on the other end.

"Uh..." A crash in the background. "Could be better!" He heard the muffled sound of Zoe yelling for Sarah. When she had the phone back to her ear she mumbled a quick "sorry."

"How's she doing?"

"She's taking it harder than usual. Maybe saying goodbye wasn't such a great idea." His wife sighed, and Charles felt her heartache setting in.

"Can you, ah, put her on the phone?"

"Yeah, gimme a minute."

Zoe placed the phone to her shoulder and called out. "Sarah, sweetie, come here!"

In Mordhaus, Charles checked his watch obsessively. If he was caught, the secret would be out. Usually he didn't call until his assistant had retired for the evening, but he just had a feeling that he _should_ call.

"Sweetie, Daddy wants to talk to you." He heard his wife say.

"Hi daddy!"

"Hi sweetheart. How are you?"

"I'm okay, Daddy! How are you?" Charles broke into a grin. Three years old, and already a master of formality.

"Just fine, Sarah. Are you, ah, being good for your mother?" He hoped the phone call would be enough to keep her from acting out.

"Uhm..." Sarah trailed off on the phone.

"Sarah Ann." Charles began in a warning tone.

"I'll be good, Daddy!" She was quick to say.

"You promise?" His voice was stern, but he couldn't be angry.

"I promise."

"Okay. Put your mother back on the phone."

"Okay Daddy! I love you!" He chuckled.

"Love you too Sarah."

"Well...she stopped crying, at least." Zoe mused. Charles adjusted his glasses.

"Just tell her that if she ah, acts up again, the monster from her dream will eat her or something." On the other end of the line, Zoe gasped.

"Charles! That could scar her for life!"

"Well then..." he thought for a moment. "Tell Sarah that if she continues doing whatever it is that she's doing that I'll take Mr. Cuddles away when I come home." He pictured removing the stuffed bear from his daughter and bringing it back to Mordhaus, and cringed. Of all the horrible thoughts that regularly filtered through his mind, that had to be one of the worst.

"God knows she'll freak. But she listens to you better anyway." Zoe tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and flipped the sauteing greenbeans expertly in the frying pan, keeping a careful eye on Sarah, who was coloring on the living room floor.

He was about to reply that he had no idea why that was true, but his assistant walked in the door at that moment. Quickly, Charles switched into professional mode.

"Alright, we'll do that, then. Your check is in the mail." Zoe held the phone out in surprise, before catching on that her husband must not be alone.

"Assistant?"

"Yes, of course." Charles glanced up at the Klokateer, who was waiting patiently by his desk.

"God I miss being there."

"I am aware of that."

"Alright, babe. I miss you already!"

"It's understandable." Charles listened to the giggle on the other end with a straight face.

"Jerk! But I'll let you go. I'm sure you're busy with the boys."

"It's debatable, but I have to agree. Oh yes! Our mutual associate will be issuing a conference soon enough." Zoe rolled her eyes. 326 would be returning to their home sooner than expected. Charles never trusted her to be on her own for very long.

"'Bye, babe."

"Alright then. We'll do lunch. Talk to you then."

Charles hung up the phone, keeping his expression neutral. He looked at his assistant expectantly, waiting.

"The lords Dethklok are currently eating lunch and have considerably lightened in mood."

Charles signed the bottom of the contract he finished revising and stood, handing it to his assistant.

"To legal." He prompted, and the man left ahead of him.

Again, the thought of the tantrum he would have to endure if Zoe really did have to offer Sarah the option of taking away Mr. Cuddles ran through his mind, and he shook his head, trying to push it away. His desire to check on one family sated, he set out to check in with the other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**A/N: **I am SO sorry this took so long! I've been very, very sick, and just have had the fervor to write this story. As you can imagine, its a very demanding plot. I'll try to keep up with it now, though, but if I disappear again, I apologize in advance.

* * *

Charles was feeling relatively nauseated by the look of pure bliss on Murderface's visage as he massaged the ice bag over his nether regions. Of course, he didn't let his distaste show- that would've been a sign of weakness. It wasn't so much the action that made him sick, but the idea of the public action. That portion of his mind that was still trying to put the last few days behind him was horrified at the notion that both of his respective families might someday-inadvertently, of course- cross paths again. He'd much rather die than see his sweet baby girl turn into the monster he'd become himself.

"Yeaaah. That'sch real good." Murderface sighed happily, gripping the package tighter.

Charles cleared his throat loudly, subtly grabbing for attention. He'd gotten four-fifths of his ultimate goal- better than usual.

"Gentlemen, I'd to discuss the, ah, reason behind your cruelty to one another. As of late, you boys have, ah, really been at each other's throats…care to tell me about it?"

He watched the room like a hawk. There. Nathan glanced down. Shame had settled in- Charles knew just how to exploit that to get the temporary peace he desired. Again, another tell. Pickles began to twiddle his thumbs to an unheard beat. Toki was chewing on his bottom lip. Skwisgaar's guitar fingering grew heavier. He knew his boys better than they knew themselves.

"Nathan, did you have something to say?"

The frontman looked up, bewildered. Truth be told, he hated it when Charles did that to him. It was like he could read his mind, and it freaked him out. Regaining his composure, he nodded slowly.

"Uh…yeah. These guys all suck fucking donkey dick." He stated matter-of-factly. Murderface immediately hurled a handful of ice cubes at him, and Nathan stood, ready to beat his bandmate to a bloody pulp.

Charles glared at the both of them, and instantly, they backed off and sat down. Something told them he was not in a mood to be trifled with.

"Well here's the deal. You can't be a band if you can't get along. And you, ah, can't make money if you're not in a band. So you either get along or become average Joe's. I trust you all will be seeing your therapist soon enough?"

Five heads grumbled and nodded in agreement. Toki looked like he was on the verge of sobbing. Suddenly, he let out a cry and threw his arms around Skwisgaar, who stiffened and tried to push the younger guitarist away with the headstock of his Explorer.

"I's so sorries, Skwisgaar! I thoughts it woulds be funny to fill your shampoo bottle with the whips cream!And I's didn'ts means to drops your teethbrush ins the crapper whiles I was doings it and not tells you!" Toki wailed.

Skwisgaar just about turned green, unable to even fend off the emotional Norwegian. The silence from the other members of Dethklok was broken by Pickles, who began to hysterically laugh his ass off, as the other two joined in,

"Oh man, Toki! That's classic!" The redhead chortled, tipping over onto the floor from his chair. Even Charles let a small grin slide. It was the sort of prank every little boy dreamed of pulling on someone, and here Toki had done it by accident. It made it all the sweeter for everyone but Skwisgaar, who was licking his lips and trying to decide if the odd taste in his mouth was from the alcohol or the toothbrush.

"Ah…alright then." He began, nearly unable to keep from laughing. The things he had planned to say had slipped his mind entirely due to the look on the Swede's face.

Pickles climbed back into his chair and wiped his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too, ya guys. I've been a real douchebag lately." He apologized, directing his gaze at Murderface, who huffed and looked away, still peeved.

Charles nodded in happy appraisal. He knew by the same time tomorrow, all hell would likely break loose again, but for the moment, it gave him time to relax after a long day of leaving home and hellish catching up.

The CFO stood, casting his eyes around the room to make sure everything was in order. He liked a tight, clean ship when he returned to work, and he would see that it stayed that way for as long as possible.

"Anyone need anything or have, ah, any concerns?"

Some eyes were cast around the room nervously, and Charles felt the pit of his stomach drop out. Nathan looked sheepish, but as all eyes were directed at him, took the vocal stage.

"Uhh…Ofdensen…are you gonna, y'know…_disappear_ again this Friday?"

For a brief, overwhelming moment, Charles' head spun. They knew. How could they know? He'd been so careful to hide everything he did outside of Mordhaus from them…He felt like he was about to faint. And then Nathan continued.

"You know…with it, uh…being the…anniversary, and all." He wouldn't look at Charles.

"Becausche, we totally get it, and we're_ here_ for you, if you ever need to talk." Murderface stressed in his best congenial tone.

Charles breathed out evenly, understanding dawning in his mind and setting him back into a functional mode. Truth be told, he'd completely forgotten about the end of the week marking the widely assumed "death" of his wife. He fingered his wedding ring subconsciously at his side, curling his fingertips against the warm metal band. Immediately, he forced himself to appear crestfallen.

"It depends on, ah, how much work I have to do here." He replied softly. If he was being given the okay to take a personal day, then disappear he would. But with the merchandising opportunities piling up and the new Klokateers to initiate, escape seemed unlikely. Longing panged in his chest suddenly, but he pushed it down and away.

It looked to him like the band was still buying the grieving widower act, because they all appeared to be gently reminiscing themselves into sobered silence. Bowing his head, Charles offered a quiet goodnight, and then retreated to the sanctuary of his office.

He was still partially reeling from his scare when he settled into the evening's contractual oversight. As he reviewed the information at hand, making marginal notes for various negotiations, he shook off his fears. He knew he was well covered, should anyone begin to suspect.

The knock at the door, therefore, did not startle him as much as it could have.

"Come in." He called blandly, completely focused and in his element.

Klokateer 326 entered the office casually, his mask balled up in his hand. Charles glanced up at him, frowning.

"I hope you haven't been, ah, parading around like that."

326 shook his head, donning the overcoat he had also been carrying.

"No, I just took it off at the doorway. I can't breathe in this thing." He lamented.

Charles finished signing the last document and set it aside in the pile. Leaning back in his chair, he loosed his tie and sighed.

"Colton…" He began, but Colton raised his hands in defense.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, it's _protocol_ and all that junk…but that doesn't change the fact that I'm asphyxiating."

Charles grinned slightly, removing his glasses and wiping them on the edge of his jacket.

"I'll make a note to pitch the idea of airholes to the boys."

Colton chuckled, planting his hands firmly on Charles desk.

"Am I picking anything up on the way?" he queried.

The CFO thought for a moment, trying to remember if there was anything they needed at the house.

"Call Zo, see if she needs anything. I can't think of anything at the moment, myself."

"Will do, Chief." Colton caught the car keys Charles tossed at him- one of the inconspicuous armored sedans- and made for the door.

"G'night, Charles." He called over his shoulder, pulling the mask back on over his head as he reached for the door handle.

"Night, Colt." The manager replied, replacing his glasses on his nose and standing up.

Charles stretched, turning to look out the window. He stood there for a while, just staring out over the darkening complex and the surrounding mountains. He saw the headlights of the sedan Colton was driving pull onto the main road. Charles followed the headlights until they disappeared into the night, and then sighed. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead and his palms to the glass, the heartache settling in again. He'd neglected to tell Zoe just how much work had to be done- he wouldn't be able to get back to the house for at least two weeks, possibly longer. It pained him to think that Colton Blake, though a trusted soldier, was watching Sarah grow up more than he was. In effect, Colton was raising Sarah. Colton would probably teach her to ride a bike. Colton would probably be at her high school graduation. Hell, Colton Blake would likely walk his beloved Sarah down the aisle at her wedding someday.

And what about Zoe? She was strong; Charles knew that better than anybody. But her patience was wearing thin. He could see it. It had been four years of the same story, and it was growing tiresome for the both of them. He was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't do the right thing and set her free, to find someone who could lie beside her every night and kiss her good morning every day. Every so often, he'd have nightmares that that was already occurring between her and Colton, but he knew she was his in every sense. Zoe would never betray him like that. They'd fought too hard to stay by each other's side. Still, he'd feel better knowing she was being taken care of properly.

Charles grew morose. He tried to push his thoughts away as best as possible, but it was to no avail.

"I love you two. Remember that." He whispered to the window, before silently retiring to his room for the evening, though there was not much sleep to be had, seeing as he was sleeping alone again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**A/N:** The first chapter I've ever written that's purely involved OC's. Charles and Dethklok are discussed, however. Hope you enjoy. Please, if you enjoy this, let me know- I can add more or less of these sorts of chapters. Thanks!

* * *

Zoe sighed, tracing patterns on the cool glass of the windowpane. She watched as rivulets of condensation pooled and slid down the transparent barrier, running away from her and all the other drops. She didn't have a great deal of time to reminisce, however, as a pair of headlights entered the driveway. Pulling on her robe, Zoe meandered outside from the safety of her home to meet the expected guest.

"Colt. So nice to see you again!" She smiled warmly at him, embracing her fellow Klokateer and hugging him tightly.

"Your hair's getting longer." She remarked, tugging on the cornrows that hung down past his shoulders, though pulled smartly back into a ponytail. Colton grinned.

"It won't if you keep pulling on it. As I'm sure you know, workin' for your husband can get pretty stressful. It's a wonder we're not all bald." He quipped. Zoe giggled, gesturing for him to follow her into the quaint townhouse.

Colton shut and locked the door, entering the alarm code into the keypad. Any visitors past this point would not be allowed on the premises unless bearing specific instruction from Charles. Hanging up his coat, he looked at Zoe, who sat again at the window, brushing her hair. She looked fragile. Her expression had drastically changed, her demeanor somewhere between a brave front and a total breakdown. It wasn't his place to say much, though. Instead, Colton Blake settled into the opposite arm chair and picked up the book lying out on the coffee table.

They sat in silence for a while. Sarah had long since ceased her crying and had fallen into a restless sleep. Zoe was still awake, not even trying to go to sleep, as she knew she would have to re-bed Sarah in a few hours, if not less.

"How…how have you been?" the conversation was bunk and they both knew it. Colton shrugged.

"Can't complain. You look tired, though."

Zoe nodded slowly, dreamlike.

"I know. I'm exhausted. And it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since he left." She chuckled bitterly, yanking the brush through her hair. Colton looked up, worried.

"Whoa there, missy. Don't rip it out." He chided softly. Zoe seemed to become aware of her actions and stopped abruptly. Silence again for a few minutes.

"How's work?"

"The same as it always is. Eventful."

More silence. Zoe wrung her hands in her lap, biting her lip and trying to avoid the question.

"And the boys?" Colton rolled his eyes at this.

"They're Dethklok. Need I say more?" Zoe shook her head, her nerves frayed beyond repair. Suddenly she leaned forward.

"How is he?" She pleaded, tears threatening to spill over. Colton sighed. He hated this part of watching Charles' family. It made him very uncomfortable.

"He's…he's Charles. Broken up on the inside, cold as ice on the outside. You should know that."

Zoe stood, beginning to pace the living room.

"Yeah, but he knows the doctor told him to be careful with that knee, and too much stress is bad for him, plus he's been fighting off a cold for the last three days-"

Colton jumped up and caught his boss's despairing wife by the shoulders, shaking her slightly.

"Zoe! For cryin' out loud, you're the one who needs to stop stressing out!" He demanded, wary of his volume due to the child, but not to the tone. Zoe immediately closed her mouth and looked away.

"I know. It's just…it's so hard. On both of us." She whimpered, needing a hug. Colton obliged out of sympathy.

"Yeah girl, it's tough, but he's head over heels crazy in love with you! If he could be with you every second of every day, you know he would. And he is- he's always got you on his mind." The Klokateer knew this to be true- he was quite good at reading people. Probably one of the reasons Charles had chosen him for the job. Zoe sniffed.

"Really?" She wiped at her eyes. Colton smiled down at her.

"Really. Now. Go get some sleep. Girl, you look like a hurricane came through here and you got in the way!"

Zoe smacked him in the arm playfully.

"Oh yeah- just what every woman wants to hear, Colt. No wonder you can't keep a girlfriend."

Colton looked smug, holding his arms out to represent the entirety of himself.

"Nah, girl- that's just 'cause I'm a man of the people! I represent! And I represent for any fine honey who wants a peace of the Colt!"

Zoe rolled her eyes.

"Good night, Colton." She called as she walked away. He chuckled.

"Night, girl. Sleep tight. Don't let the Revengencers bite."

Zoe heard this and put it out of her mind immediately until she shut the door to the master bedroom. Colton didn't know- he only knew part of the story. He was a hire after she had already been long gone from Mordhaus. Everyone who worked there eventually found out about the Revengencers. It was a story that spread like wildfire through anyone who hadn't heard it yet. And yet, even in jest, it sent shivers down her spine and caused her to break into a cold sweat.

Zoe listened at the door for a moment. Colton had turned on the television, but it was quiet enough for him to hear anything out of the ordinary. Sarah was silent in the next room, still sleeping soundly.

Feeling out of sorts, she padded over to the closet and began to move the contents around, reaching for something she hadn't seen in quite a while. When her fingers touched hard leather, she groped for a moment more before pulling out the case. Retreating to her bed, she set the case down on her knees and flipped the latches open.

Caitir shone brightly under the overhead light, repaired since its excursion into the fighting world. Zoe traced the jewel in the pommel, ran her fingertip over the scales of the snakes that twisted together to form the guard of the heroic epee. Her eyes raked over the beautiful engraving.

Gently lifting the sword out of the case, she placed it leaning against the nightstand on her side of the bed, just in case.

* * *

Colton Blake yawned, taking a swig of Monster before flipping through the channels again. Late night television was the pits in this town. He rested easy- no one had ever disturbed the family in hiding after dark, and he was becoming more and more confident that no one ever would. Charles was overprotective. Did Zoe ever even leave the house? He doubted it. And what was he going to do when Sarah was finally old enough to go to school?

A small noise startled him out of his reverie.

"Hi Colt. Where's mommy?" Sarah Ofdensen rubbed at her eyes at the foot of the stairs. Colton nearly jumped out of his skin, his hand on the pistol concealed under his jacket. When his mind registered that it was only Sarah, he relaxed, exhaling the breath he'd been holding.

"Uh…Hi, Sarah. Your mommy went to bed- she's very tired." He scratched at an itch on his neck. "What are you doing up?"

Sarah's footie pajamas made scuffing noises across the floor, and she crawled up onto the couch and stared up at Colton, who patted her on the head nervously. Even at the age of three, she had the exact same steady gaze of her father, which made him very jumpy. It was weird, to say the least. Every Klokateer (sans Zoe) knew that when that particular questioning gaze caught you, the easiest cut off would be unemployment collection. But it was a rare event when someone made it out the door alive after Charles Foster Ofdensen finished with them.

"I dunno. I woke up and wanted mommy." She sat Mr. Cuddles in her lap and ran her chubby fingers through his fur.

"Well, why don't you let your mommy sleep for a while? She could get sick if she doesn't sleep, and you wouldn't want that, would you?" Colton wished the kid would just go back to bed, but he figured he'd end up putting her there himself. Babysitting was his least favorite part of the job- Sarah actually scared him. Zoe he could deal with. Charles he could deal with. But a combination of the two had deadly potential, and he didn't know what she was already being taught from the both of them. Plus, if anything happened to her, he was sure he'd lose his head.

Sarah shook her head.

"No, that would be bad." Again, her attention shifted, and she stared into Colton's nerve-wracked black eyes quizzically. It was the same face her father made when he was thinking- though his thoughts were likely not filled with the colorful imagination-fueled idealisms of a young girl. One of her eyebrows rose, and the bodyguard swallowed heavily.

"Where's my daddy?" She asked. Colton had to think for a moment before he could answer.

"Working. You _did_ know that, didn't you?" She nodded, her braided pigtails bouncing.

"Yes, but when my daddy goes away, you always show up. Do you work with him?"

Colton was impressed. For a three year old, she had an expansive vocabulary and grasp of the world and how it worked. Then again, she _was_ Charles' daughter. And Zoe's, too, he mused to himself as an afterthought.

"Uh, sort of. It's more like I work _for_ him." Those huge hazel eyes seemed to drink in this statement, while the puffy pink lips drew into a thin line, and said no more on the subject.

Sarah continued to part the fur on the head of her beloved teddy bear this way and that, more absorbed in her thoughts than in her actions. Colton watched her with piqued interest for a while, before a sudden curse from the television shook him out of it. He'd forgotten the television was still running, and his milk chocolate cheeks darkened with his shame as he fumbled for the volume control on the remote to quickly mute the sound. Sarah, however, simply looked up and giggled.

"Daddy says that word sometimes, when he comes home, and mommy yells at him. It's a bad word." She looked up at Colton seriously again. "Does saying bad words make my daddy a bad person?"

Colton Blake, even the smooth talking man that he was, was at a loss for words. His mouth gaped like a fish, and he numbly shut the power button off. Maybe sending Zoe to bed hadn't been such a great idea. He knew he had to come up with an answer that would satisfy her, but he couldn't even wrap his mind around a simple "yes" or "no."

"Uhm…" He started, and then quickly stopped.

_Was_ Charles a bad person? Colton checked the pros against the cons in his mind. On the one hand, the man ran an empire that no one else could ever even fathom handling, and did it all without usually breaking a sweat. He had a beautiful family that he hid from the world out of adoration and fear that something would happen to them because of him. Colton knew Charles hated himself when he was away from Zoe and Sarah, but also kicked himself when he was away from Dethklok. The man was constantly walking a tightrope without a net, and Colton mentally commended him for it. He made sure his employees got their paychecks to take care of themselves, settled work related disputes, and protected Dethklok with every fiber of his being. Without him, they would likely not even still exist as a band.

And yet, there were so many seedy, shady, and slimy things about him that thinking about it made the Klokateer want to wash his hands repeatedly. He killed people without a second thought. He tortured prisoners for information, and sometimes for years after, seemingly as a hobby. Colton remembered the man in the high security cell he'd seen once, shortly after becoming a Klokateer. Edgar, he'd said his name was. Charles mutilated, humiliated, desecrated, and murdered in seemingly cold blood. He let the Klokateers live in putrid, filthy conditions if they were on staff at Mordhaus full-time. Their bodies really did line the sewers and basement levels of Mordhaus. He indulged Dethklok's most devious ideas at times, allowing for mass slaughter, even at concerts. Half the time, it was Charles who came up with the stage designs that slay hundreds, if not thousands of innocent fans a night. He controlled every aspect of Zoe's life. And those scars…Colton had no idea how he'd gotten some of them, but he found he didn't want to imagine. And, of course, there was the Klokateer training seminars. Colton himself had been the victor in his fight, but he hadn't been the first to strike. In his mind, he'd become the champion though self defense.

How Charles Ofdensen could radiate such a sinister air, and be such a compassionate soul, Colton would never understand.

So it was to his great relief when Sarah answered her own question, yawning.

"Well, my daddy loves mommy and me, so he can't be bad." She didn't ask for Colton's affirmations, but simply knew this to be true. Colton heaved a sigh. The innocence of children was a beautiful thing.

"Hey, uh…why don't I take you back to bed?" He offered, wanting her out of his mind and out of his thoughts. Such a tiny creature invoked so much turmoil in his head…he was developing a migraine.

Sarah nodded, and Colton scooped her up gently, careful to avoid eye contact. He mounted the stairs as quietly as he could, and nudged open the door to Sarah's room. Setting her gently into bed, Colton tossed the covers over her, handed her the bear, and backed out of the room as though he were dealing with a wild animal. Sarah, luckily, was already fast asleep by the time he reached the landing of the stairs.

Settling back into the armchair, Colton tipped his head back, drained.

"Damn, Charles," he whispered to himself, "you're just as scary when you're a three year old girl."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Charles typed frantically, pausing to check his watch every so often. He was nearly finished. It had been an extremely stressful week, but it was all almost over.

The CFO tensed when his eyes again drifted to his laptop's clock, but he needn't have worried. Looking down at the outdated spreadsheet before him, he realized his computations were finished. Jubilant within, Charles flexed his sore wrists. There. Done. And right on schedule. The sun was just beginning to peek up over the mountains surrounding Mordhaus. He had plenty of time to spare, actually.

Feeling his spine creak as he leaned forward, Charles saved and sent the document to the various divisions where it needed to be, and closed the laptop. He pushed it aside, then, reaching for the document concealed beneath it. The pearlescent cream cardstock shimmered in the morning light, and once again, he flipped the card open to stare at the words within.

It was a forwarded wedding invitation from Zoe's cousin Amy. The wedding was later that afternoon- only Zoe had been invited. But the wedding was not what interested him. It was the fact that Zoe had forwarded the invitation to him, after scrawling the words "I'm going" on the blank inside inner flap in a red sharpie.

At first, Charles hadn't known what to think. He was nervous, that was for sure. He had received the envelope Wednesday afternoon- by that evening, he was drunk off his ass on brandy and had even sought out Pickles for a cigarette. His hands shook when he thought of her going out without him or Colton- since the attack, he'd been a regular train wreck when it came to her safety without his presence, conceded and off-base as it was. He knew she could handle herself, but would rather not take the chance.

And then the anger had set in. The seething, petty anger that made him skip the phone call home for the night because he'd known he would have nothing pleasant to say. It wasn't a controlling anger. It wasn't the sort of anger he felt when one of the boys directly defied him, which made him feel small and meaningless. It was the anger of a man who genuinely feared the world and wished his beloved wife would see it for what it was- death, waiting to happen.

Beyond that was a sort of joy- he was expected home that day. When he finally had called home, Zoe had been perfectly clear- it was her turn to escape for a day. She was going out, to purchase a dress, shoes, get her hair, nails, and makeup done, and then attend the wedding and reception. She needed some time for herself, and with a smirk, Charles was reminded of her exact words to him over the phone when he'd mentioned he didn't see a way to return to their cozy colonial: "Well, you better damn well _find_ a way, Charles, or I'll make sure the wedding party takes a wrong turn and adjourns to Mordhaus for the reception." As her tension grew, her days as a lawyer kicked back in full force. She was not to be trifled with when in such a mood, and he made sure to acquiesce to her request.

But suddenly, it occurred to him that everything would work out flawlessly. The wedding was Friday- what luck! He could feign grief, tell the boys he was taking the day off, and disappear unquestioned. It was like a gift from God. Because he was Charles, however, he felt he couldn't just take off and leave everything up in the air. So he'd frantically worked to finish everything for the next five days before Friday morning. And, as usual, he'd made it happen.

With a relieved smile, Charles polished off his cup of coffee and stood, gathering his things for departure. Grabbing his car keys out of the desk drawer, he looked around. Satisfied with the peace and order he saw, Charles flicked off the light and tried to make himself unhappy.

* * *

Nathan held up his hands in a gesture of patience. Pickles, sitting next to him, chuckled, effectively goading him into moving faster. He blew out on the spoon slowly, and then lifted it to his nose, pressing the cool metal into his skin and hoping to whatever powers that were to let it stick. Toki, Skwisgaar, and Murderface all watched, enrapt.

"Whoa. He'sch gonna do it."

"It's'll be a new records!" Skwisgaar was on the edge of his seat, pale eyes wide with wonder.

Nathan inhaled gently, feeling every other spoon stuck to various parts of his body tremble and threaten to fall off. He was just about ready to let go of the spoon on his nose and break the redhead's record when he jumped, startled.

"Ah, good morning, guys."

Charles sounded even more distant than usual. Nathan growled under his breath, the spoons stuck to his elbows beginning to slide. Finally, just as he let go of the one on his nose, three other spoons clattered to the floor at once.

"Aw, fuck." He spat under his breath, clearly peeved. He had the heart enough not to take it out on Charles on that day, of all days. So he simply dislodged the other utensils from his person and laid them on the table, crossing his arms and waiting.

"Goods mornings, Charles." Toki chimed brightly, and then sobered, remembering the date. Everyone looked down at their feet for a moment in silence.

Charles felt smug, but didn't let it register facially. This was exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. He frowned, blinking a few times for effect. Toki looked mortified- absolutely perfect.

"So, ah, how is everyone this morning?" He sighed, shifting his weight. He never fidgeted when dealing with the band, so when he was uncomfortable simply standing, they knew something was up.

Everyone murmured either a "good" or a "fine." Charles cast them a baleful glance, being sure to look away quickly. He let the awkward seconds tick by. Three…two…one…

"Ah, listen, guys, I'm going to take off for a while, if that's alright with you. I have some…things I need to attend to. Everything has, ah, already been set in order for the day."

"Oh, _ ja, _dat's fine. Goes, does what you needs to do." Skwisgaar was never a sympathetic man, but Charles guessed this was about as close as he came. The others answered along these lines as well, and to their surprise, Charles mumbled his thanks before shuffling towards the exit. He was nearly gone when Nathan's booming voice brought him to a halt.

"Hey, Ofdensen. What if we, like, seriously need you, or something? Uh, like if the house blows up or the TV won't change channels again?"

Charles produced a notepad from his inner pocket, along with a pen. He set his briefcase down and scribbled a series of numbers on the top sheet. Striding over to Nathan and ripping it off, he handed it to the frontman.

"You can reach me on my dethphone. If I don't answer, try that number." Nathan nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but faltered, and quickly snapped his jaw shut. Charles nodded in understanding, and with that, waved his farewell to his boys, and was out the door.

* * *

Zoe and Sarah were in the backyard when Charles arrived. He slid the glass door open quietly, and sat down on the unprotected edge of the deck beside his wife, squeezing her hand in quiescent solitude. The sun shone warmly down on the yard, and the couple watched their little girl blow bubbles at Bentley. She hadn't noticed his presence yet.

Zoe yawned and scooted closer to Charles, curling against his side and rubbing his back in small circles. He planted a kiss on her forehead, the serene atmosphere washing over him and instantly decimating his stress.

"I missed you." Zoe murmured, nipping his shoulder playfully though his shirt. Charles smiled, leaning down for a real kiss.

"I missed you, too. As do the guys. They send their condolences…I think." Zoe rolled her eyes, watching her husband kick off his shoes and dangle his legs over the edge of the hardwood deck.

At that moment, Sarah looked over towards the house, and noticed her father.

"Daddy's home!" She called happily, exciting Bentley, as well. The dog yipped, turning circles in the grass, nearly blundering into Zoe's prized flower garden. Charles sighed at the four legged creature, before being tackled by his daughter. He lifted her up and sat her on his lap, tickling her sides and falling in love with the sound of her giggling all over again.

It was good to be home.

For a brief moment, the Ofdensen trio was content. Nothing was wrong in their world. They were completed by each other and the life they had built together. The child, wondrously innocent, would have years before she understood the look her parents gave each other. It was warily grateful. Cautious, pleading for the fragile string that held them together to remain intact.

But all such moments came to an end for them, and the sound of the mailman at the front door reached Zoe's keen ears. She exhaled with a smile, and planted a kiss on the foreheads of both husband and daughter. Bentley sidled up to her, and she ran her hands through the strangely woven fur on his head.

"Well, I've got to get dressed, and then I'm off." She announced, sending a pang of terror through Charles' heart. As though reading his mind, she continued.

"Don't worry, babe! I'll be fine. It's just a wedding. Plus I'm going shopping with a whole group of people. It'll be okay." Zoe's reassurance only rang partially true in his ears. No one was safe. They both knew that. Charles was honestly shocked that nothing had happened in these past four years to them.

Unconsciously he wrapped his arms tighter around Sarah, who simply blinked at her mother. Zoe felt slightly off kilter- two pairs of those soul-rattling eyes were looking right through her. It was like Charles in stereo. And then she grinned. Ruffling Charles' hair and then reaching for Sarah, she retreated into the house to ready herself for the excursion.

Charles sat alone on the edge of the deck, save for the company of the dog. Bentley whined and rested his head on Charles' knee. Absent mindedly the CFO petted the animal, staring off into space and trying to make sense of his feelings.

His dethphone's ringer made him jump a mile when it went off. Cursing under his breath, he reached for the phone and glared at the red readout. It was Toki. His finger jabbed at the answer button nervously while he waited for his body to stop trembling.

"Toki. What…ah, what is it?" He answered primly, feeling deflated. Toki's accented voice crackled to life on the other end of the line.

"There ams a guy here ands he has a bunch of boxes for yous…they're really big…" Charles' shoulders slumped. He knew exactly what was going on. In a way, it was really very touching. But now was the time where he just wanted to be left alone.

:"Tell him to deliver them to the loading dock and then have the Klokateers move them to the merch room, got it?"

"Yeahs…hey, Charles, how's you doing?" The Norwegian bit his lip while he paced the front foyer of Mordhaus.

"I'm fine, Toki. Just fine." He stressed in a low voice, hoping the guitarist would take that as an acceptable answer.

"Oh, okays, just wanted to makes sure. Bye, Charles." Toki hung up quickly, and Charles looked at his phone in appreciation for a few seconds. Toki was really very understanding about certain things, when he wasn't competing in the mindless masculinity tests with the rest of the band.

Zoe chose that moment to reappear in the doorway, her heels making a smart thud on the wooden slats of the deck. Charles turned to look at her, his dethphone still in his hand. Instantly, her face drained of color. He stood slowly, careful of his knee after sitting for so long, and then closed the gap between them. He spoke in a whisper.

"Don't worry. It, ah, was nothing. It was just Toki checking up on me. Everything's fine." He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver. Glancing around for Sarah and not finding her, Charles' tongue snaked out and lapped against the side of his wife's neck greedily. Zoe gasped, resting her head against the doorframe while her nails dug into his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. He growled, ravishing her while he could. Moments like these were rare now, especially during daylight hours.

Zoe pulled her husband in for a long kiss, tongues and lips melding together with all the passion they kept locked away from the rest of the world. Seconds lapsed into minutes. Suddenly, a giggle, and then a small, but laughing voice.

"Ewww!" Sarah giggled into her hands, hazel eyes narrowed with mirth. Surprised, Charles pulled back, breathless. Zoe smiled, twining her hand in his.

"Sweetheart, it's not 'ew.'" She chided gently. Sarah shook her head.

"Is too." Zoe motioned her over and knelt down in front of her. Charles looked down at the pair, smoothing his mussed hair back and covertly wiping the smudges of crimson lipstick from his mouth. Zoe hated it when he did that, but they both knew red wasn't his color.

"Honey, it's like this. When a mommy and daddy love each other very much, sometimes, they kiss, to show each other how much they care. It's beautiful, not gross." Zoe stated. When it came to parenting, she bared no information from her little girl. If Sarah had asked the age old question "where do babies come from" right then and there, she would've gotten a watered down- but straight- answer.

Sarah would have none of this explanation, however, and proceeded to giggle some more.

"No, it's icky, mommy!" Zoe laughed and poked her daughter in the belly button.

"Well, maybe you're icky!" She countered. Charles shook his head with a chuckle. His daughter stuck out her tongue at her mother, who returned the raspberry and then picked up the little girl and blew one on her cheek. Sarah squirmed, laughing.

Reluctantly, Zoe folded the little girl into a hug, and then handed her off to Charles. He walked her to the front door, Bentley appearing out of nowhere and attempting to be a four-legged speed bump, as usual.

"Alright, so Sarah's already eaten breakfast. Bentley eats at 11 and 6- half a can of wet food each time. The water and electric bill need to be paid- they're on your desk. The garden needs to be watered, if you could, and the upstairs bathroom faucet's been leaky for the last couple days. Sarah needs to take her vitamins"- at this the child made a face- "at 3…are you sure you're gonna be alright?" Zoe's brown eyes flitted from toddler to man, and Charles smiled, leaning forward and kissing Zoe on the forehead.

"I'm, ah, going to be just fine, Zo. Go. Have fun. Tell Amy I send my congratulations." He assured her gently.

Zoe's nails gripped the doorframe, and then she relaxed, squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath. She grinned.

"Alright. Call me if you need anything! Bye, guys." She kissed them both goodbye, and then confidently strode down the walkway and slid into the driver's seat of Charles' Mercedes.

The engine roared to life, and Bentley barked at it in surprise. Charles stood on the spacious front porch and waved her off, until he could see the car no more. Then he looked at Sarah, who was smiling at him, as though she had been saving up all her energy for just such an event.

"So, Daddy, are you gonna be here all day?"

"Uh huh. It's just you and me, sweetheart."

"And Bentley and Mr. Cuddles." She corrected him gravely. Charles nodded.

"Alright, it's you, me, Bentley, and, ah, Mr. Cuddles."

Sarah wrapped her pudgy arms around Charles' neck, and sighed.

"I missed you, Daddy. I'm glad you're gonna be home today."

Turning his back on the empty street, Charles' heart soared.

"I missed you too, Sarah. More than anything."

* * *

Charles brushed stray hairs from his face as he sat up, careful not to bash his head on the edge of the sink. What should have been a simple tightening of a bolt turned into two and a half hours of repairing the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom. Approvingly, he looked himself over. Not a single stain or smudge on his shirt. With a self righteous smirk, he tossed the wrench in his hand into the air and caught it, before standing up and dusting himself off.

After turning the water back on and testing the flow, Charles washed his hands and then meandered through to the kitchen. Checking the time, he searched the cupboards for the can of Duncan Hills Toasted Almond Vanilla coffee, and metered out six tablespoons to nine cups of water in the percolator. He hummed to himself contentedly, the sultry sounds of the coffee the alto to his tenor warble.

The CFO mounted the stairs again, and approached the door which was slightly open on the second floor. He knocked politely on the wood, a gentle "come in!" issued from the opposite side.

"Sarah, sweetheart, it's time for lunch."

"But daddy, this is the princess' tea time, and I'm the princess!" Sarah retorted, and Charles blinked at the arrangement of stuffed animals- and Bentley- who sat quietly, watching the small child. He nodded.

"Well, I'm sure Mr. Cuddles wants you to eat lunch, so you can grow up to be a big, strong princess."

He loved that reason usually worked on his daughter, even at her age. When she had been born, Charles was very nervous- could he handle a _real_ child, instead of the immaturity of Dethklok? Would he be able to deal with the tantrums, the lack of logic? It turned out, much to his relief, that he very rarely had to. Sarah seemed to contemplate this, finally rising from her seat, plastic tiara askew on her red hair. Bentley followed them downstairs. Suddenly, Charles felt a tug on his hand.

"Daddy, when lunch is done, will you play with me?" He made the grave mistake of looking down at those big, hazel eyes, and sighed.

"Daddy has to pay the bills, first, but then I'm all yours."

Her smile lit up the room.

Lunch was a trying affair for Charles. It wasn't that she wouldn't eat her sandwich. It wasn't that his own food was horrible. Nothing like that went wrong. It was the constant barrage of questions. As soon as he sat himself down at the table after dishing out the meals, it began.

"Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"Where did Mommy go?"

Charles took a bite of his lasagna and swallowed.

"Mommy went to a wedding for cousin Amy."

"Is she coming back today?" This was nearly whispered. Charles looked up sharply.

"Of course, pumpkin. She'll be back tonight."

"Promise?" Sarah sounded…apprehensive? Concern washed over Charles in stomach-tightening waves.

"I promise. Why do you ask?" She wouldn't look at him.

"Because you go away a lot, and don't come back for a really long time."

It was then that Charles realized this entire thing- hiding one family from the other, leaving for extended periods of time to work for Dethklok- was not going to work any more. Helplessness settled in, and his shoulders slumped. There wasn't much he could do about it. Having lost his appetite, he picked at his food in silence.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Sarah?"

"What do you do when you go away?"

She expected an answer. He knew she deserved an answer. But try as he might, he couldn't bring the words to mind to make her understand just _why_ he couldn't be like any of her friend's fathers, or the neighbor's kids' father's…

"I, uh…I go to work, a long way away, and I make a lot of money to take care of you, your mother, myself, and the people I work for."

"Then how did you get that scar?"

"Wh…what?" He was shocked. Sarah cocked her head at him, chewing slowly.

"On your face. I got a scar from falling when I was running," here, sarah held up her left elbow to display the puffy skin, "Did you fall, too, Daddy?"

Charles' brow knitted together, and he frowned, staring at the lasagna he was currently massacring with his fork. Repaired as it was, the faint traces of an old wound were still visible on his cheek.

"Uhm…I…yes. I fell." It wasn't a _complete_ lie. He had, indeed, fallen off the hoverbike. That had led to the creation of the mark.

"So why do you and mommy have the same mark on your skin?"

"Huh?"

"The pointy circle thing with the scary face. She has it on her neck, and you have it on your chest."

This would be difficult to explain. He hadn't expected it to come up, ever- expected Sarah to just take it for granted until she figured out what Dethklok was. But Fate had other ideas. She was intelligent- she knew what scars looked like. She had seen the necks and skin of other people without that mark. And she, herself, did not bear it. Charles thought hard for a moment.

"Your mother and I…we both worked for the same people, once…and so, ah…we both had the same accident, and got the same scar." He supposed he could describe the creation of the brand as an "accident." Creating the pattern had been quite an accident, but the charred remains of one of the first Klokateers had left him with a brilliant idea.

"Oh." Was all she said. The rest of the meal was spent in silence.

The remainder of Charles' day at home, however, was not as thought- churning as lunch. Of course, getting Sarah to take her vitamin was the hardest part, but easily dealt with. He decided to take her to the park for a bit after paying the bills, and then he could work on some more accounting for Dethklok. And so he sat, surrounded by mothers of all ages, shapes, and sizes, watching Sarah play on the jungle gym like a hawk, dressed in a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of boots.

One of the mothers looked over at him, and her eyes widened slightly. He caught the look in his peripheral vision, but said nothing. She leaned over and whispered to a friend, who's grip tightened on the handle of her baby's stroller. The first mother approached him. He already knew what she was going to say. She sat down beside him on the bench and twiddled her thumbs, taking note of the wedding band on his left hand, glinting in the sun.

"Is that one yours?" She pointed with a forced smile at Sarah, who was showing three other kids how to swing across the monkey bars.

"Yeah." Was his soft reply. He didn't need to bring attention to himself.

"I've seen her here before. Sarah, right? I think she plays with my little Tommy on occasion."

"Yes, I'm sure." He tried to will the woman away silently, but she wouldn't go.

"Are you her father?"

"Yes." The woman blinked, looking nervous.

"Oh. I hate to sound rude, but we- the other mothers that come here, that is- thought Zoe was a single mother. We've never seen you here before."

This stung a bit. Charles had, indeed, been to the park with his wife and child, but not in the most traveled parts, and not recently, either. He felt guilty, all of a sudden, and cast a wary glance at the woman beside him.

"I…work a lot." He sighed, and dropped his head, eyes flickering back towards his daughter.

"I can imagine. It must be hard. Hey, you look familiar…do you work for a major company, or something?"

"Ah, you could say that." He muttered, feeling dread mount up inside.

One of the other women came over and flanked his left side, now, and still another drew closer.

"Yeah, Debbie's right- I just moved here a couple weeks ago- I've only met Zoe once, but I swear, I've seen you somewhere before!"

"Ah, it's probably just coincidence."

Suddenly, the one with the stroller snapped her fingers and grinned.

"I know! You're Charles Ofdensen! The manager of Dethklok!" She exclaimed loudly, and Charles groaned.

"That's it! I've seen you on the news!" Debbie said.

"You look really different without that stuffy old suit!" Another, who popped up behind him, said. He bristled. He had been contemplating telling them he got that a lot, that he wasn't Charles Ofdensen, but there were two problems with that plan of action. The first was that he didn't know if Zoe hid her last name from these women, who probably knew it, and the second was that there was no hiding his identity, with his glasses and that scar.

"My suit is not stuffy." He seethed quietly. He wanted to leave, but Sarah looked like she was having such a good time…

"It _is_ him!" Debbie murmured, subconsciously scooting closer. Charles didn't move, instead trying to look imposing while slouched on a park bench in normal clothes with his daughter seven feet away.

The women gushed to themselves for a moment, senseless chatter about rumors they'd heard and how amazing it was to have a "celebrity" right under their noses all this time.

"How's Skwisgaar doing?" Was one of the first questions directed at him after the discovery. The woman with the stroller had asked it, and he looked up.

"Ah, fine, just fine. Practicing hard."

"That's good. Tell that emotionless bastard that his son has a good father, now. Jared is great with kids." Stroller-lady emoted, gesturing towards a little boy who was playing with Sarah on the slide. Indeed, he had pale blue eyes and cornflower-blond hair. Charles sighed. He never could get away from work for very long.

"I will. I trust you have been properly compensated?" He looked up, slipping into business mode and ready to write a check if need be. Since Sarah had entered his life, he always felt sorry for the women who ended up with Skwisgaar's children, and no Skwisgaar to share them with. Money was no husband, but it did cover the bills.

Instead of hearing a reply from Stroller-lady, Debbie burst out laughing.

"Look at what you've done, Katie! Now you've gone and gotten him all stuffy again!" She nearly fell over laughing, and Katie rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I was, thank you. It really helped a lot with paying the medical bills and stuff." He relaxed a bit. Debbie finally stopped giggling, and patted him on the shoulder consolingly.

"Relax, Mr. Ofdensen- you're among friends. Well…Zoe's friends. And we're quite glad to finally meet the man behind the woman!"

He chuckled, then. _Behind?_ It would be a nice change of pace, to be sure, but…

"Let me just say, your wife is incredible. And her brownies- to die for! Anyway, I'm Debbie Hartwell, that's Katie Stringer, Lauren Krescky, and Charlotte Blane." She pointed at the women surrounding Charles with authority, and he shook hands with all of them.

"It's nice to meet you…all of you. I'm…well, I guess you can call me Charles. Or he-who-is-rarely-seen-or-talked-about, apparently."

The gaggle of women laughed.

"Oh, come on! Don't feel bad! Look, if it makes you feel any better, she _does_ talk about you. Honestly, though, we thought you were dead."

"Yeah. It's a good thing you showed up now- otherwise we might have started trying to set her up on dates!"

Charles chuckled blankly, that old knot of regret tying another knot within him. They were going to farm out his wife? Of course, Zoe would never allow that, would have said something, but was he _really_ that distant in her life that everyone just assumed she was single?

"Well, I guess I picked a good time to come home, then." Was all he could muster, lost in his own thoughts. The women cooed at him sympathetically, sensing something was amiss.

"What's the matter, Charles? Life got you down?" Lauren looked out to the playground and her soft voice changed to a bark. "TJ, don't eat that!"

His newfound guild of housewives around him, Charles didn't feel threatened about revealing some of his personal information. What would the harm be? The media was always following him around, anyway.

"Ah, yeah, it has. It's just…I'm never home. And I hate it. And I know Zoe and Sarah hate it, too. But…when you work for Dethklok, there's not much of an option."

Debbie looked like she was going to cry. Wordlessly, Charlotte handed her a tissue, and she blew her nose.

"Aww, cheer up! You have a beautiful daughter with a woman who obviously loves you and understands your position. We've seen the brand- we know she worked for you. It's just a matter of finding balance."

"Or quitting your job."

"Or bringing her to Mordhaus."

Charles visibly balked at the ideas, and must've looked exceedingly depressed, because all of a sudden, all the mothers sighed.

"Girls, someone needs a hug!"

"Ah, no, wait, I really-"

"Group hug! Let's all cuddle with Charles!"

Too late. He was suddenly in the press of four strange women, trying not to move and touch any body parts that could have horrible, horrible repercussions. He thought of what Zoe would say if she saw this…than realized she would probably have been the one to orchestrate the entire thing. No wonder she got along with these women. They finally backed off, and he could breathe again.

"There, feeling better?"

"Uhh…yeah." Actually, he was sort of feeling better. It was nice to be able to get things off his chest like that, and feel supported.

Unexpectedly, he felt the hair on his arms stand up. Something was wrong. His eyes scanned the area, searching for Sarah. He found her, still on the slides, but there was someone else. He heard her say, "No! Go away!" And then watched her start running.

He was on his feet in an instant, the women slightly startled, and caught Sarah up in his arms, eyes looking behind her for the man he had seen beside her from the back. He was gone.

"Sarah, sweetie, are you alright? What happened?" He looked her over- nothing amiss. She looked startled, but alright otherwise.

"There was this man, and he said he lost his puppy, and wanted me to help him look for it. But mommy told me that if a stranger ever asks me to go anywhere with them, to yell and run away, so I did."

Sarah buried her face in Charles' neck, and he felt himself fill with rage, even while praising his daughter for doing the right thing. He hadn't gotten a good look at the man whatsoever, but if he ever found him, said stranger better pray that God would have mercy on his soul. Charles was already planning on calling up his loyal Klokateers, sending a team out to look for the man, and then envisioning ripping his limbs off, one by one, after personally using a pair of rusty garden shears to castrate him.

"Oh my God…TJ! Get over here now!" Lauren cried, and the ripples of fear spread like wildfire through the other mothers, who gathered up their children and pulled closer to Charles, as if by a magnet. Debbie, who was quite a bit shorter than him, looked up at Charles pleadingly.

"Can't you do something? Y'know…find the guy? This is such a small town…with good people. Nothing like this has ever happened before!"

The other mothers all held their children, and Charles sighed, beginning to automatically shepherd everyone towards the gate. He thought for a moment, and nodded.

"I…I can't promise anything. But I'll try." Debbie nodded, looking slightly more at ease.

"We'll help any we can, right girls?"

"Right!" Went up from the mothers. Charles nodded.

"You're a good man, Charles Ofdensen. Zoe has our numbers- just give us a call if you ever need anything or need someone to watch Sarah. We'd be happy to help."

"Thank you, all of you." He replied with a heavy heart. They nodded grimly.

"We have to go. Get home safely." And with that, he and Sarah were off, trying to escape the place that Charles was convinced his presence had tainted.

By evening, both of them were feeling better. Sarah had limited powers of description- dark hair, evil eyes, tall- was all she could give Charles to go on. He didn't push her- instead, he spent the rest of the day trying to take her mind off of the incident. Between games of hide-and-seek and princess tea parties, both of them were exhausted at the end of the day.

The Mercedes pulled into the yard around eleven at night, and Zoe stepped out, humming grandly to herself, still in her dress. She opened the door to her home and locked it behind her.

"Charlie? I'm home, baby!" She called softly, not wanting to wake Sarah. But there was no answer. She shrugged. Maybe he was asleep. Zoe hung her coat on the coatrack and trekked across the foyer into the living room, stopping dead in the doorway and wishing she had a camera.

Charles was stretched out on the couch, head on the armrest, fast asleep, and Sarah was curled up beside him, in the crook of his arm, also lost in dreamland. A children's book was on the floor beside Charles' dangling hand. Bentley was curled up on Charles' feet- all in all, the trio looked incredibly cozy. Zoe smiled widely, crossing the room and kneeling down beside her husband and child. She reached out and cupped his cheek gently, stroking his pale skin and drinking in his relaxed features. A minute passed before his eyes peeled themselves open slowly. He blinked and smiled.

"Hey."

"Hi. Let me just say, for the record, that we need to put a camera in every room, for moments like these."

Charles followed her eyes and looked down the length of his body, and smiled sleepily.

"Yes, dear." Zoe leaned in and kissed him softly, slowly. Charles melted into her touch. Bentley stirred, finally stretching and jumping off Charles' feet. The lovers parted, and Zoe gathered Sarah, who didn't stir, into her arms. Charles sat up, massaging the back of his neck.

"So, how did everything go?" She said as he stood and followed her to the stairs. Charles took off his glasses and thought for a moment.

"It went well. The bills are paid, the sink is fixed, and Sarah and went, ah, to the park. Met some of your friends there- they thought you were a widow."

Zoe giggled, entering Sarah's bedroom and putting her down gently.

"I'm sorry, my love. I'm never sure what I can and can't tell them, so I just keep my mouth shut, most of the time. But now that they've met you, I can yap constantly!" She looked pleased as she tucked Sarah in, settling Mr. Cuddles in beside her and kissing her forehead. Charles smiled. No use in ruining a perfect moment with horror stories.

Zoe backed out of the room and turned around, pulling Charles into her embrace in their bedroom doorway. After a long moment spent amorously, he pulled back, dizzy with lust.

"And how did your day go?" He exhaled sharply, growing excited about the night that was to come and very glad he had fallen asleep for at least an hour. Zoe smirked, pressing a finger to his lips.

"I'll tell you in the morning." Was all she said, and Charles chuckled as he was dragged down to her shoeless height for more loving.

No use ruining a perfect moment at all.

Outside, in the darkness, a figure drifted down the sidewalk, two uneven limbs swinging merrily as he formed a new, even more violent plan.


End file.
